


Episodic Memory

by whalebone



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Bonding, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Hand Jobs, Heroic Rescue, M/M, Memory Loss, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Robot Sex, Robot/Human Relationships, Wire Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:01:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23698921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalebone/pseuds/whalebone
Summary: Since being reprogrammed, K-2SO has had many new experiences. Falling in love is one of the more complicated ones.(Rated for the final chapter.)
Relationships: Cassian Andor & K-2SO, K-2SO/Bodhi Rook
Comments: 40
Kudos: 69
Collections: May the 4th Be With You Star Wars Fanworks Exchange 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nununununu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/gifts).



> For Nununununu, whose excellent prompt made this thing just grow and grow. I had an absolute ball writing this, so I really hope you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting this ship <3

The damage to their ship was not extensive, but it was bad enough that K-2SO did not want to leave it to the Alliance’s mechanics. They consistently ignored his _very basic_ instructions and would reprogramme the shuttle’s flight settings, so he always had to waste time reconfiguring everything. They could not seem to get their slow, organic brains around the fact that astromechs and pilot droids were not the only ones who could fly ships.

He had only seventeen percent of his charge left and knew that he should return to the droidbay to power down, but had no intention of doing so until he had been reassured that Cassian would make a full recovery from his latest injuries. He had not been allowed to stay in the medbay, or even just outside the medbay. He had only left without any kind of altercation because Jyn had promised to let him know the moment they had any more information on Cassian’s condition.

K-2SO had run his own diagnostic, of course. There was a seventy-three percent chance that Cassian would make a full recovery, with twenty-one percent chance of minor, long-lasting repercussions, and only a six percent chance that the damage was severe, and long-term. It was a rather optimistic prognosis, all things considered, but that six percent was still far too high. 

He could not take Cassian apart and fix him himself, but he could at least ensure that their ship was in good working order. It was practical, and helpful, and Cassian would be pleased that K-2 hadn’t created any additional trouble for him to deal with.

K-2 was so absorbed in fixing the damaged shield generator, and in the anxiety sparking through his circuits, that Bodhi Rook managed to get within six feet of him before he noticed his presence. 

Bodhi had his hands in his pockets, and a frown on his face. Out of habit, K-2 ran a quick scan over him: judging by the paleness of his skin and the depth of the shadows under his eyes, Bodhi had not had a full night’s sleep in at least a week. The lines between his eyebrows suggested that he had been worrying. The small smile that touched his mouth when K-2 straightened to look at him was one of… relief, perhaps? That thought seemed to calm some of the frantic energy racing through K-2SO’s core. People were not often relieved to see him.

“Hello, Bodhi.”

The smile grew a little, and Bodhi rocked on his heels. “Hey,” he said, and though there were many signs of tension and worry in his face, his voice was warm. “I heard you were back. I wanted to see if you were okay.”

“I am unharmed. The mission was successful, though Cassian has sustained a concussion, a broken collarbone, three broken ribs, and nerve damage to his left shoulder.”

Bodhi’s face fell. “Oh, no. That sounds bad."

“There is a seventy-three percent chance that he will make a full recovery, now that he is receiving medical care. I believe Jyn has threatened to sit on him should he attempt to escape the medbay.”

That made Bodhi laugh. Despite his worry, K-2 felt rather pleased with himself; Bodhi should laugh more often. “It would be more frightening if _you_ threatened to sit on him.”

K-2SO considered that. “Yes, particularly because that would injure Cassian further. My weight would crush a significant amount of his bones and vital organs.”

“At least he wouldn’t be able to escape the medbay,” Bodhi pointed out. He cocked his head, frowning slightly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I have run a full diagnostic, and have sustained no damage.”

Bodhi’s eyes creased as he smiled and came closer. “I didn’t mean physically,” he said, a slightly teasing note in his voice. “Cassian’s hurt, so I know you’re fretting like a mother tip-yip.”

“I am nothing like a small, domesticated bird, Bodhi Rook.”

That prompted another laugh. K-2 wasn’t entirely sure why, as he had not intended to make a joke, but it pleased him just the same. The line between Bodhi’s eyebrows smoothed away when he laughed.

“I can’t argue with that,” said Bodhi, smiling more broadly. “I’m sure Cassian will be okay. They’ve fixed up worse before.”

That was true. The chances of Cassian, Bodhi, and Jyn - to say nothing of Baze Malbus and Chirrut Îmwe - all surviving the injuries they had sustained on Scarif had hovered at only one-point-eight percent. K-2SO only knew about this from their medical files, as his back-up had not been loaded to a new chassis until three weeks after their return to the Rebellion. It was after the Rebellion’s removal to _Home One_ that Cassian and Jyn had, through dubious means, managed to acquire an empty KX chassis for him.

“Yes,” said K-2, because Bodhi was looking at him expectantly. “He will most likely make a full recovery.”

“Exactly.” Bodhi nodded firmly. “D’you want a hand? I’ve got nothing else to do right now.”

If Bodhi were Cassian, K-2 would have told him off and made him go and sleep, but he did not know if his usual methods would have the same results as they did with Cassian. Perhaps it would be beneficial for both of them to work on the ship, at least until K-2’s power cells reached a critical point. And Bodhi was, in his estimation, a far more competent mechanic than many of the Rebellion’s actual mechanics. “If you would like to help.”

Bodhi nodded, already pulling his goggles over his head. “I’d like to help.”

The unpleasant energy buzzing under K-2’s plating eased as he and Bodhi worked on the generator. He managed to stop his processors looping through analysis after analysis of Cassian’s injuries, of what K-2 could have done to prevent them in the first place. Bodhi was easy to work with; he did not get in the way, and worked in a logical manner. K-2SO found that he enjoyed watching Bodhi performing repairs, particularly now that he had adapted to using his cybernetic hand. Usually Bodhi’s movements were rather nervous - he fidgeted constantly, bit his remaining nails, twisted his hands, which often had a tremor - but when he was working on something, or piloting a ship, he seemed to transform, as though his movement commands were suddenly clear of interference. 

As they worked, Bodhi chatted. It was, surprisingly, not annoying. He did not seem to require K-2 to respond, and filtering through his words gave K-2’s processors something to do other than worry. Bodhi talked about other people in the Rebellion that he was getting to know, particularly the pilots (“If I could do even half of what Shara Bey can do in an X-Wing I could die happy”), and about how Chirrut was trying to teach him to fight (“I think I’m mostly one big bruise, at this point”), and about the sabacc games he’d been drawn into in the mess hall (“Karia bet me a whole bag of Deychin tea, and then she didn’t even have any! I haven't had Deychin for _years._ ”).

By the time they were done, K-2’s batteries were at only ten percent, and Bodhi was failing to stifle his yawns. K-2 had almost resigned himself to powering down for the night with no news of Cassian, since arguing with a medical droid would no doubt deplete his power stores even further, when he received a message from Jyn.

“The bacta is working,” he told Bodhi as they locked up the ship. “Cassian will be grounded for a week, but he will recover.”

“A week? Oh, he’ll hate that.”

“Indeed. I may need to lock him in his quarters.”

Bodhi grinned. “You’re not telling me Cassian couldn’t break the lock.”

“True. Perhaps General Draven will consent to lock him in the brig for the duration.” K-2’s optics began to dim as his inessential processes began to shut down. “I will need to power down now. Thank you for your help, Bodhi.”

“Any time,” said Bodhi, still smiling. He knocked lightly at K-2's chest plate, sending an oddly agreeable reverberation through him. “Night, Kay.”

“Good night. Sleep well.”

A slight grimace passed over Bodhi’s face. “I’ll try.”

* * *

As all of K-2’s simulations and past experiences predicted, Cassian was an extremely trying patient. He refused to stay on bed rest, and insisted on being ‘useful’ as much as possible. He spent hours updating long-neglected paperwork, planned a series of potential missions to acquire critical resources, and had K-2 follow the trail of a mercenary through the holonet, convinced that he was selling black market goods to the Empire. 

K-2 agreed, both because it was relatively interesting (Rix Tarkar’s trail took him through some very bizarre parts of the holonet - organics really could find sexual stimulation _anywhere_ ), and because Cassian would have to sit down and wait for him to complete the work. K-2 could have been much faster, but he deliberately took his time, following different branches of the trail. It was good to be thorough, after all. 

“You should sleep,” he told Cassian, who was drooping at his work desk and stubbornly ignoring it. “The trail is extensive. I will have a fuller picture of his holonet movements tomorrow.”

Cassian looked put-out for a moment, and then sighed. 

“You are only grounded for four more days, Cassian. You could at least try to be patient.”

That made Cassian snort. “Says you. You’re never patient.”

“I am extremely patient. I would not put up with you if I were not. And you are lucky you are only grounded for a week, considering how foolhardy you were.”

“It’s not _that_ bad. I’ve worked with worse injuries.” 

“Unauthorised work. I should remind you that Jyn will follow through on all of her threats, if necessary.”

“Ugh. I knew I’d regret you two joining forces.” Cassian finally set the datapad aside, wincing as the movement aggravated his damaged ribs. “But fine, I’ll try and sleep, and you can give me that report tomorrow.”

There was only a thirty-four percent chance that Cassian would actually get a decent night of sleep, but there was very little K-2SO could do about that, short of drugging him (which, Cassian had impressed upon him very early in their partnership, was frowned upon). He left Cassian to it, and made his way back through _Home One_ ’s maze of corridors to the droid bay. The route took him past the mess hall, which was emptier than usual, probably because it was so late (‘late’ was, of course, an entirely artificial construction in deep space, but most organic life functioned better when given at least a simulation of a natural light cycle).

Bodhi was one of the mess hall occupants, sitting with his head propped on his cybernetic hand, looking unhappy. K-2 paused. Some organics, when unhappy, preferred to be left alone. Others welcomed company and distraction. K-2 was not yet certain where Bodhi fell on that curve, though based on his behaviour earlier in the week, he was one who offered his company to others when he thought they needed it. He had helped K-2 in his worry over Cassian, so perhaps K-2 should return the favour.

Then he would have more data on Bodhi, as well. That thought pleased him. K-2 liked new data.

Bodhi looked up when he approached, and his mouth turned up in a smile, though it did not make him look particularly happy. “Hi, Kay. How’s Cassian?”

“Difficult,” said K-2, and Bodhi made a huffing noise that was perhaps meant to be a laugh. “Why are you here by yourself?”

“Oh. No reason, really. I’m okay.” His eyes shifted a little, and he ran his metal fingers over the burn scar that marred his right cheek. The bacta tank had repaired most of the damage, but the scar would never truly fade. 

“You are unhappy,” K-2 pointed out. “Did you lose at sabacc?” Bodhi was very good at these strategic games, for a human. Not as good as K-2 would be, of course, but nobody ever permitted him to play. 

The smile flickered briefly across Bodhi’s face again. “No. Well, yes, I did, but that’s not why I - anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’m just brooding.”

K-2 pulled out one of the mess hall’s metal chairs and sat down, to save Bodhi having to crane his neck. “This,” he waved a long arm to encompass Bodhi’s general state, “does not constitute ‘brooding’. Have you met Cassian?”

That made Bodhi laugh properly, even if it was only a small laugh. It sent a warm little spark through K-2’s circuits. “I dunno, I reckon I could give Cassian a run for his money, some days.” He sighed, and rubbed at one eye. “It’s… stupid. I played a couple of rounds with some of the mechanics, and then, um, Baqu Viff wanted to join. D’you know him?”

“The Quarren in security.” 

“Yeah, him. Well. I mean, it wasn’t anything he did, he was fine, I just - _ugh_.” Bodhi put his face in his trembling hands with a groan. “I’m such an idiot.”

“That is an inaccurate assessment.” K-2 did not know what Viff had said or done to Bodhi, but if he had upset him then K-2 would… well. Cassian would be very angry if he actually _did_ anything, but some pointed looming might do the trick. 

“Not really.” Bodhi dropped his hands and stared at the table. “I just… apparently can’t deal with tentacles now. At _all_.”

Ah. K-2 understood something of human trauma responses, and aversions to something that reminded them of their trauma was an obvious sign. “That is understandable.”

“Maybe, but it’s not… okay. I can’t go all my life trying not to look at - at Quarren, or anyone with headtails. It’s not fair, and it’s not their fault.”

“Nor is it yours.”

Bodhi shrugged. “That’s not the point.”

K-2 was not sure what the point was. “Was Viff angry with you?”

“I don’t even know if he noticed. I was so - I just tried to pretend I was okay, and didn’t look at him, and panicked to myself the whole time. Then I basically ran away.”

As Bodhi spoke, K-2 quickly searched through his medical files. Years of attempting to care for Cassian’s battered emotional health had given him some tools, but he did not want to make Bodhi feel worse. He felt an odd urge to put his hand on Bodhi’s shoulder, as an offer of comfort, but did not know if it would be welcomed. Bodhi could be skittish about physical contact. 

“It's an understandable response. Such fear responses can improve over time.”

Bodhi met his eyes. He looked drawn and sad, and K-2’s processors began to run faster as he searched for a solution. 

“Thanks, Kay,” Bodhi said heavily. “I hope you’re right.” He pushed back his chair and stood. “I’m… gonna try and sleep, I think. Maybe I’ll feel better tomorrow.”

He didn’t knock his hand against K-2’s chest as he left this time.

* * *

Baze Malbus folded his arms over his chest and gave K-2SO a look that managed to be both puzzled and unimpressed at once. 

“Deychin tea?” he repeated. Perhaps the ludicrous cannon he had used as a weapon had impaired his hearing.

“That is correct.” 

“I was not aware that droids drank tea,” said Chirrut Îmwe cheerfully. K-2 suspected that he was being made fun of. “Or our good Captain Andor. It does not seem to be strong enough for his… appetite.”

Cassian preferred to drink caf that was strong enough to stand a spoon upright in it. It was revolting, and K-2 always turned his olfactory sensor down when he was drinking too much of it.

“It is not for Cassian, or for myself. I have no need for your hot leaf water. It is for Bodhi.” Saying that made K-2 feel uncomfortably as though some of his processors were overheating. His fans began to hum. 

Baze looked rather surprised, and then thoughtful. He would help, K-2 knew, because he was very fond of Bodhi. As well he might be, since they were three of the only survivors of Jedha. 

“I think a crate came in two days ago,” he said. Baze had unexpectedly displayed some skill at cooking and baking, so often volunteered his services in the Alliance mess hall. Jyn regularly sang the praises of his jogan pastries. “I will see if any can be spared.”

“What has young Bodhi done, to deserve special attention?” Chirrut asked, smiling. “Cassian will be jealous.”

* * *

The following evening Baze made good on his word, having unearthed a small box of tea from somewhere in the Alliance stores. Armed with this, a small kettle (salvaged from a pile of scrap and duly mended), and a mug (stolen, with no guilt), K-2 went to Bodhi’s quarters. He did not entirely understand why he was making so much effort; he only knew that Bodhi’s unhappiness made him feel like he had a frayed wire under his plating.

It was only when he knocked on the door that he considered that he might be unwelcome. Not everybody liked having unexpected visitors. Well, if Bodhi did not seem receptive, K-2 could simply hand him the tea and leave. That would be fine. It would fulfill his self-imposed assignment.

The door slid across to reveal Bodhi, who blinked up at him, and smiled. Something warm flickered along K-2’s circuits, and he felt a little smug. He hadn’t made a mistake, of course.

“Everything okay?” Bodhi asked. He looked tired and worn, his long hair pulled back into a tangled tail. “Do you need help with anything?”

“No. I wanted to make sure you were alright. And I brought you this.” He held out the box, containing tea, kettle, and mug. Bodhi blinked at it, confusion settling over his face.

“Um,” he said. “Thanks. I don’t - wait, is that Deychin?”

K-2 felt more than a little smug at the restrained delight in Bodhi’s voice. “That is correct. Karia Bris did not give you the tea even though you won it from her. I have acquired some.”

A strange little expression passed over Bodhi’s face, which turned into a sort-of amused suspicion. He squinted up at K-2. “Are you allowed to have this?”

K-2 made a show of offence and straightened his shoulders. “Of course!”

Bodhi grinned. “Just checking. Thanks, Kay, that’s really… really nice of you.” He took the box from K-2’s hands. “I was just watching some silly holo. Want to come in?”

The only sleeping quarters K-2 had visited previously were Cassian’s, and he found that he was curious about Bodhi’s. Cassian kept his space as neat and impersonal as possible, with no decoration or personal effects whatsoever. K-2 knew that Cassian would want there to be no trouble or inconvenience to the Alliance should he be killed in the field. Time spent clearing out his bunk would be time that could be spent on more important matters.

Bodhi’s quarters weren’t quite so sparse as Cassian’s, even though he had arrived at the Alliance with nothing but the Imperial uniform on his back. Tools were spread over a makeshift workbench, and he was clearly in the middle of fixing a broken commlink. A small, spiky plant with a purple flower sat on the bench. Scraps of flimsi had been taped to things, with notes such as, _‘Fresher’_ and, _‘clothes’_ , and, _‘This is the Rebel Alliance’_. K-2 knew that Bodhi had many issues with his memory now; these must be measures against that. The chair for the work bench had been dragged to sit by the bunk, and Bodhi had propped a datapad on it.

“How’s Cassian doing?” Bodhi asked as he filled the kettle from the small sink in the ‘fresher. He listened attentively as K-2 enumerated his frustrations with Cassian’s inability to stop working, moving around his small quarters to set the kettle to boil, then leaning against the workbench to open the box of tea.

“He probably feels better about being grounded if he can use the time for something,” he said diplomatically, then lifted the box to his face and breathed in deeply, closing his eyes. “Mm, I haven’t smelled this in years, I’d forgotten how good it is.” He looked up at K-2, who was looming in the middle of the room, taking up most of the space. “Thank you, Kay, honestly. Um, I don’t know if you can smell, but—”

“I have an olfactory sensor, yes.”

“I wondered. Here, want a sniff?”

K-2 did not bother correcting Bodhi’s terminology (he had an olfactory sensor, but it did not require him to simulate a sniff), and instead took the box of tea from his hands. 

“My sensor records the smell of durmic root, Abednedo vanilla, and cinnamon, suggesting that it would be both sweet and spicy. It does not contain any of the poisonous or otherwise hazardous substances in my indices.”

Bodhi laughed, his eyes creasing. “Well, I should hope you’ve not brought me poisoned tea,” he said, standing and taking the box back. “If I ever upset you, maybe just tell me instead of going for poisoning.”

“I shall make a note of it.”

“Good.” Bodhi scooped some of the fragrant tea leaves into the mug. “It… reminds me of ho— of Jedha, a bit. Amma would buy some from the market every month, as a - a treat.” He paused, hand hovering over the kettle as though suddenly lost in a thought. “At least, I think that’s right.” A sad, uncertain look passed over his face, and then he seemed to shake himself. “Most of the time it was just tarine tea, which is just horrible.”

“The human sense of smell is strongly linked to memories,” K-2 told him. “If that is what it reminds you of, it is likely true.”

Bodhi’s shoulders relaxed a little. “Yeah, maybe.” He still looked sad, and K-2 did not like it. He had wanted to make Bodhi less sad by bringing him the tea, not more. 

“What were you watching?” he asked, to change the subject. It seemed to work, because Bodhi gave a slightly embarrassed laugh and came to sit on the bunk, clutching the steaming mug.

“Kriff, you’ll laugh at me. If I tell you, you can’t tell Jyn.”

“You must know by now that I am dreadful at keeping secrets.”

Bodhi snorted. “True. Well, _try_ not to tell Jyn? She’ll never let me live it down.”

K-2 could not imagine what Bodhi was watching that would inspire such mockery in Jyn. Then again, he had seen lots of inexplicable things that organics found entertaining on his searches through the holonet. He doubted, however, that Bodhi was about to reveal his particular tastes in pornography.

“It’s this really, _really_ dumb show,” said Bodhi, sounding even more embarrassed. “It’s called, um, _Searching the Stars_. It’s about this Togruta woman and her astromech solving mysteries, and she has all these love interests and rivalries. It’s absolutely ridiculous and none of it makes sense, but it’s entertaining. I don’t need to think too hard when I watch it. I, um, used to watch it back in the Academy, when I was trying to come down from all the stims.”

K-2 did not really understand the appeal of not thinking about something, but Bodhi no longer looked sad. He looked a little embarrassed, yes, but mostly amused. It was an improvement.

“Cassian used to listen to a holoshow about a Bothan and a human attempting to navigate a romantic relationship,” K-2 said. “Apparently it helped him sleep.” And, K-2 thought, he would probably be unhappy that he had told Bodhi that. 

“Seriously? Cassian?” Bodhi’s look of amusement increased. “Well, this might be better than that. Want to watch?”

Oddly, K-2 _did_. He could not sit on the bunk with Bodhi, of course, but if he sat on the floor and leaned back against it, he could see the datapad Bodhi had propped up. He set some of his background processors to continue tracking the mercenary Rix Tarkar; this show would certainly not require every facet of his CPU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does ridiculous episodic television exist in a Galaxy Far Far Away? Well, it does now.


	2. Chapter 2

“How long?” Cassian muttered, pretending to take a sip of his drink, his other hand once again straying to the blaster hidden inside his jacket.

“Four minutes,” said K-2, who was still not allowed a blaster. He considered this deeply unfair, as he had apparently been trusted with one on Scarif. He was lurking in the alley beside the bar, since droids were not allowed inside, and could see Cassian through the greasy window. 

Baze sat opposite Cassian, looking perfectly at home. As well he should, since it was his old contact they were meeting. Apparently he had worked as a bounty hunter in his sordid past, and he thought an old colleague might be able to give them a useful lead on Rix Tarkar. Baze's enormous blaster was slung over his back; he had not been able to find a replacement for his repeater cannon but had, with the help of Chewbacca, acquired and modified a blaster the size of a rocket launcher. He had not yet allowed K-2 to even touch it.

Jyn was tucked into a dark corner of the bar, ready to leap in if necessary. Chirrut was lurking in the opposite alley that had seemed the likeliest escape route, presumably doing his ‘kindly old blind man’ act. He had been unhappy about this mission from the start, his lips thinning whenever Baze talked about his past. Bodhi was back in the shuttle, ready to make a speedy getaway should things go wrong.

K-2 thought there was a sixty-eight percent chance that things would go wrong. 

“Four minutes, Jyn,” Cassian muttered.

“I _know_ ,” she snapped back. “Stop fussing. We’re ready.”

Cassian huffed slightly, and settled back in his seat. K-2 scanned the surrounding area again. The place was rundown and filthy, the bar’s gaudy lighting flickering. A drunk Gran was already slumped on the ground outside the bar, clutching her head and groaning. There was a huge Trandoshan bouncer in the doorway. K-2 hoped that he might get the chance to fight him; it had been weeks since he'd been allowed to engage some of his combat protocols. In the next alley, a young human was waiting to meet his spice dealer. 

Three minutes and twenty-seven seconds later, a tall, slender figure appeared at the end of the street. They walked with the strange, bouncing stride of all Terrelian Jango Jumpers, as though it was an effort to keep their feet firmly on the ground. K-2 withdrew into the shadows, dimmed his optics, and sent an alert to the others. Through the grimy window he saw both Baze and Cassian shift slightly, coming more alert.

The Jumper had a hood pulled up over their head. They paused just outside the bar, glanced around, and then spoke quietly to the bouncer before slipping inside. It began to rain, turning the bar’s gaudy lighting misty. 

At first, it seemed to be going well. The Jumper shook Baze’s hand, and gave Cassian a curt nod. After the introductions, Cassian did a lot of the talking. Even without hearing his voice, K-2 knew which persona this was: smooth, confident, ready to do anything for the right price. The Jumper leaned their head on a long hand, occasionally interrupting with a question. Their other hand began to move toward their hip, and K-2 straightened in alarm.

At the same time, Jyn’s voice buzzed over the commlink. “Cassian, needle! Move!”

Cassian moved just quickly enough, leaping to his feet just as the Jumper’s arm whipped out, clearly attempting to sink a needle into his neck. Baze struck out, knocking the Jumper flying backwards. They somehow turned the fall into a flip and landed neatly. They dodged blaster bolts from both Jyn and Cassian, and sped for the door. 

There was a crash and another blaster shot from inside. K-2 was already moving as Cassian barked instructions over the comm. As the Jumper sped past the alley he lashed out, sending them briefly sprawling onto the filthy ground.

K-2 was fast by most droid standards, but there were not many beings in the Galaxy that were faster than a Terrelian Jango Jumper, particularly a desperate one. They propelled themselves to their feet and drew a blaster before K-2 could even process it, and he only just moved in time. The bolt glanced off his chest rather than going through his head.

"Damn _Imps_ ," the Jumper snarled, and then they were gone, leaping across the street in a single bound.

* * *

The Jango Jumper got away, of course. Not even Chirrut’s remarkable capabilities were enough to subdue a determined Jumper, and he had sustained a shoulder injury for his trouble. Jyn had fallen as she’d tried to give chase, and her ankle was already swelling. K-2 was not badly damaged, but the blaster bolt had knocked something loose within his chest compartment, and it was making one of his circuits spark unpleasantly. And he hadn’t been able to fight the Trandoshan.

Cassian was furious, grinding his teeth in frustration at their failure to secure contact. Draven was taking his concerns about Rix Tarkar’s Empire connections very seriously, and now they were back to square one with trying to track him down. 

“It is many years since I worked with Jyssel Jesk,” said Baze apologetically. “They were paranoid even then, but they once helped me in a tight spot. I shall not trust them again.”

“It was worth a try,” said Jyn grimly. She was leaning heavily on K-2’s arm and limping, having pointedly refused to be carried. “Not your fault.”

Personally, K-2 thought it had been too risky a contact to make, and said so, but was ignored. Typical. Nobody ever asked for his opinion.

"I did not have a good feeling about this," said Chirrut, and though he spoke calmly there was an edge to his voice. Baze just grunted.

When they arrived back on _Home One_ , Cassian disappeared to report the failure to General Draven, and Baze dragged a protesting Chirrut and Jyn to the medbay. K-2 resigned himself to seeing the droidtechs about the damage to his circuitry, something that he usually tried to avoid.

The duty tech was a brand-new recruit: a small, curly-haired human called Tyl. He gave K-2 a nervous look. K-2 looked steadily back, taking in his worried expression. He did not feel especially confident in the man’s abilities to fix even a simple loose component.

“I heard the Alliance had a KX,” Tyl said, fidgeting with his datapad. “Didn’t really believe it, though. You’re Captain Andor’s, right?”

K-2 drew himself up to his full height, annoyed. Cassian did not _own_ him. “That is irrelevant. I have a loose component that I hope you are capable of fixing.” 

“He’s assigned to Andor’s team,” said Aala, another tech, not looking up from her work on an astromech. “Don’t worry, he’s always like this.”

Should K-2 remind them that his aural sensors were in perfect working order?

“Right, yeah.” Tyl pulled a pair of protective gloves out of his pocket and tugged them on. “Wouldn’t catch me on that crew.”

The irritation already buzzing under K-2’s plating intensified. 

“No?” Aala said absently. “They’re a bit mad, sure. That Scarif mission was something else.”

“They have the daughter of the guy who built that - that _thing_ ,” said Tyl, his voice darkening. “And a guy who helped build it! I couldn’t work with people like that. They say they’re on our side now, but are they? I couldn’t trust ‘em. Their pilot’s turned traitor once already—”

K-2’s irritation blazed into anger, coursing through him like excess electricity. This little human had no idea, no idea at all. How dare he? A movement subroutine had kicked in before K-2 could stop it, and he grabbed the front of Tyl’s oil-stained overalls. Tyl yelped, fear suddenly apparent on his face. K-2 didn’t care. 

“You are ignorant,” K-2 said coldly, his vocabulator warbling slightly in his anger. “Luke Skywalker could only destroy the Death Star because of Rogue One. _How dare you?”_

“Easy!” exclaimed Aala, standing up, pushing her goggles up over her lekku. “Hey, back off. Let him go.”

Tyl plunged his hand into the pocket of his overalls and brought out a restraining bolt. “Let go of me,” he said, voice trembling.

No restraining bolts, it said in K-2’s file. Cassian had been very, very clear about that when he’d brought K-2 into the Alliance all those years ago. No bolts, no memory wipes, no reprogramming. K-2 stared at the bolt, anger still pulsing through his circuits. He could throw this tiny little human at the wall, but then there would be even more trouble. Cassian would be upset.

“What’s going on?” 

Bodhi sounded extremely confused and worried, hovering in the door of the droid bay. K-2 let go of Tyl and stepped back. Tyl held up the restraining bolt in a shaking hand, as though to attach it to K-2’s chassis. Behind him Aala looked uncertain.

“Hey!” Bodhi snapped, coming to K2SO’s side. “Hey, put that thing away. Kay, what’s going on?"

Tyl glared at Bodhi. “The droid attacked me,” he said. “Protocol says unstable droids have restraining bolts until we can look into their programming.”

“Not this one.” Bodhi grabbed the bolt, and the mingled fear and anger on Tyl’s face turned to something like revulsion. “You don’t put a bolt on him. Captain Andor’s gonna hear about this, you know.”

“Captain Andor’s droid is out of control.”

Bodhi glanced up at Kay. “Are you?”

K-2 did not want to tell Bodhi why he was upset. “He was very rude,” he said instead. 

Bodhi sighed. “Right. Maybe don’t intimidate people just cos they’re rude, yeah?” He turned back to Tyl. “Kay is on my crew, and Captain Andor’s the one who makes the decisions. It’s all in his files: no bolts, no messing with his programming.”

Tyl snorted. “Whatever you say, Imp.”

Bodhi’s shoulders tensed, and anger surged through K-2’s core again. “You should not say that,” he said.

“Leave it,” said Bodhi, resting his cybernetic hand on K-2’s arm. “It’s alright. Come on, let’s go—”

“You think just flying a shuttle to Scarif absolves you?” Tyl sounded close to tears now. “You think that’s all it takes? Alderaan’s still _gone_ , and you helped them...”

A look of utter agony passed over Bodhi’s face. “I’m sorry,” he said hopelessly. “I don’t - I mean, I—” 

“An Imp pilot and an Imp droid.” Tyl scrubbed a hand over his eyes, leaving a smear of oil on his cheek. “I dunno how anyone trusts you.”

Bodhi shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said again, then closed his hand around K-2’s arm, just above his wrist joint. “Kay, c’mon. I can fix you up, alright? Come with me.”

He shoved the restraining bolt into his pocket as they left.

* * *

Anger still flashed and fizzed through K-2’s processors as he sat by Bodhi’s workbench. He was used to not being trusted, even by supposed allies, and it had rarely concerned him. But Bodhi was clearly upset by the encounter, and the idea that others in the Alliance blamed Bodhi - and Jyn - for the Death Star was infuriating. Getting the plans had nearly killed them, all of them. Technically it _had_ killed him. The remainder of Rogue One had only survived because of Bodhi.

“Thank you for your help,” K-2 said, static creeping into the edges of his vocabulator. 

“It’s okay,” said Bodhi, though his voice was strained. “I’m glad I was there. You really shouldn’t have grabbed him, you know.”

“He should not say terrible things about you and Jyn.”

Bodhi hunched his shoulders a little, still not looking at K-2, focusing instead on digging through his toolkit. “Is that what it was? Well… it’s - it’s not the first time. I can’t really blame people for not trusting me.”

K-2 remembered the mix of terror and determination on Bodhi’s rain-soaked face back on Eadu. It was one of the last memories he had from his final back-up. _We’re the same_ , Bodhi had said. _We've both been reprogrammed._

“You are not responsible for Alderaan.”

At K-2’s words Bodhi sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I’m not _not_ responsible,” he said dully. “Tyl wasn’t wrong.”

“Yes he was. You did not plan the Death Star, or build it, or operate it.”

“I brought them the materials they needed. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew it was big, and dangerous, and secret. And I carried on anyway, because I was worried about my _job security_.” Bitterness ate at Bodhi’s voice. “I understand why people here don't trust me. I wouldn't trust me. If Galen hadn’t—”

“Galen Erso did not fly to Jedha. He did not endure Saw Gerrera. He did not fly us to Scarif, or steal a ship to help everybody escape.”

Bodhi flinched, hard, at the mention of Saw Gerrera, and he stared into his toolbox as though it would hold some sort of answer. In the harsh light from the desklamp, the scar on his face was vivid. “It doesn’t matter.”

K-2 watched him, his fans running hard as he searched for the right thing to say. “I know that I did many terrible things when I was in service of the Empire.”

“That’s not the same at all!” Bodhi jerked his head up, finally meeting K-2’s optics. “Kay, you were - you were programmed to do those things. It wasn’t your decision. Mine was.”

“And you are now making different decisions, and have done a great deal of good. Alderaan would not have been the worst of it, if you had not done what you did. He had no right to blame you for Alderaan, particularly when you have lost your own homeworld.”

Bodhi looked stricken all of a sudden, and K-2 regretted mentioning Jedha immediately. “I am sorry,” he said, as Bodhi clenched his jaw. “I should not have said anything.”

Bodhi shook his head. “It’s okay,” he said roughly. “I just...” And then he was crying, silent tears on his cheeks. He leaned his hands on the workbench, clearly struggling to bring his emotional response under control. K-2 did not know what would be welcome, but he could not just watch Bodhi be upset without trying to help him. He reached across the bench and put a hand on his skinny shoulder. Bodhi tensed, but then leaned into the touch a little. After a moment he straightened, dragged his sleeve over his eyes, and drew in a shaky breath.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m okay. Sorry.”

“You do not need to apologise.”

Bodhi shrugged, a small, wry smile on his face. “Maybe not, but I’m going to. Are _you_ okay? He shouldn’t have tried to put that bolt on you.”

“I did grab him. It is unsurprising.”

“Still. Those things are - they shouldn’t use them. At all.” Bodhi bit his lip. “Thanks for standing up for me.”

“You are my friend,” K-2 pointed out, and Bodhi looked both surprised and pleased.

“Yeah?”

“Of course. I find that I enjoy spending time with you, and I want you to be happy. So you are my friend.” K-2’s processors were running rather hard all of a sudden. 

“A logical conclusion,” Bodhi agreed, smiling again, though his eyes still looked watery. “Um. You’re my friend too, so that works out.” He drew in a long, shaky breath, and seemed to give himself a shake. “Right, let’s - let’s get you fixed, yeah?”

K-2 was quiet as Bodhi worked, and he watched his face. His eyes were masked by a pair of magnifying goggles, and his hands - both organic and cybernetic - were gentle with K-2’s wiring. Occasionally Bodhi would say something in a soft voice, like, “Tell me if anything feels wrong”, or, “Sorry, just got to lift these wires”. Then, “Ah, here it is. Loose connector. Keep still, okay?”

It took maybe fifteen minutes for Bodhi to reattach the connector and carefully check all the surrounding wiring. K-2 held himself still as Bodhi’s fingers gently moved over his internal components, occasionally brushing against small sensors. His fans were still running harder than normal. Perhaps his coolant system had sustained some damage.

“There you go,” said Bodhi eventually, sitting back and pushing the goggles up into his hair. He looked rather more relaxed, though there was a new flush on his cheeks. “Maybe run a diagnostic, make sure I’ve not missed anything, but it looks right.”

“Thank you, Bodhi.”

Bodhi gave him an oddly shy smile, dragging a hand through his hair. “Any time. Look, if Cassian’s busy and you need someone to check any damage… you can always just ask me. I’m not a droidtech, not really, but if you prefer—”

“I would prefer,” K-2 said, and Bodhi beamed. 

Later, in the dark of the droid bay, K-2 ran quiet analysis of the day’s failed mission, and of Rix Tarkar’s other known movements. The latter should have been his primary focus, but he found that he wanted to divert processing power to recalling the memory of Bodhi’s hands inside his plating, his fingers running gently over K-2’s wiring and delicate sensors. Having internal components fixed had never felt like that before. The memory sent something strange and warm and fond through his core. 

It was a new sensation. He had told Bodhi that he was his friend, which was the truth. The feeling fit every definition of friendship K-2 knew. But Cassian had been K-2’s friend for much longer, and the two feelings were not the same. Perhaps that was normal; perhaps different friends created different sensations. 

Cassian might know. K-2 would ask him.

* * *

While it had been unexpectedly pleasant to work with a team, K-2 had found that he missed going on missions with just Cassian. In the aftermath of their failed contact with the Terellian Jango Jumper, General Draven had instructed Cassian to find some way of tracking their mercenary’s movements. And so they were heading for Takodana; if information was to be had, Maz Kanata’s castle was the place to find it.

It was a long journey to the Western Reaches, so there was plenty of time to pepper Cassian with questions. At first, of course, Cassian just wanted to talk about their task, and what they needed to find out, and his fears for what weaponry or technology Rix Tarkar was supplying the Empire, but on the second day out from _Home One_ he became more amenable to other topics of conversation.

“I am trying to work something out,” K-2 said as Cassian slid into his seat, his hair damp from the ‘fresher, clutching a cup of caf. 

“Yeah?” 

“Is it considered normal to experience different friendships in different ways?”

Cassian blinked, raising his eyebrows over the rim of his mug. “I… suppose so?” he said slowly. “I mean, not every friendship is the same level of - of closeness. Why?”

K-2 considered the best way to explain. It was not always easy, translating his own experience of emotion or physical sensation into Basic, especially not in a way that an organic might understand. Not even when the organic was Cassian. 

“You are my only previous experience with friendship. And, no matter how stubborn or irritating you can be, I do… like you.”

“High praise,” muttered Cassian, though his expression was amused. 

“But I do not wish to initiate touch with you very often, except in particular situations—” Usually situations where Cassian was injured, or had just escaped death. When he had first been reactivated after Scarif, Cassian had given him a most uncharacteristic embrace. “—and I find that I am experiencing… different sensations, with others.”

Cassian’s expression was still mostly amused, though there was some mingled interest and concern. “That sounds fairly normal. Though what kind of touch? And sensations?” He frowned, and took another sip of his caf. “I mean, a lot of organics show affection through physical touch, so maybe you’ve just been picking that up? I’m not really one of them, so you wouldn’t have learned from me.”

K-2 thought about how Bodhi often flinched away from physical contact, wrapping his arms around himself as though to take up as little space as possible. Then he remembered how Bodhi had leaned into his hand when K-2 had grasped his shoulder, how he’d curled his fingers around his wrist to lead him away from the angry technician, how he’d been so gentle and steady with his hands inside K-2’s chest compartment. 

His fans began to whir a little louder.

“Perhaps,” he allowed. “So organics desire touch from their friends, not just their sexual partners?”

Cassian’s ears went a bit red, and he coughed. “Um. Yeah, sometimes. It’s - yeah. It’s different, anyway. The… desire, and what you want.” He gave K-2 a rather hard look. “What’s brought this on?”

“Bodhi fixed a loose connector for me after the last mission. It was… oddly pleasant. More than a basic repair should have been.”

Cassian stared. 

“I am aware that it is unusual.”

“Well… yeah. I know you can feel things, but I’ve never heard of a droid wanting physical contact—”

“It would hardly be the first new, ridiculous thing about my existence,” K-2 interrupted, as dryly as he could. “It is perhaps an effect of my reboot, or the new chassis. I do not care how it came about, only how to navigate it.”

“Right.” Cassian rubbed a hand through his hair. “So. Um. Just… the usual, I suppose. Don’t touch people who don’t want to be. Try and be gentle, since you can break bones without even trying.” He gave K-2 a sidelong look. “What does Bodhi think about this?”

“I do not know.” K-2 gave a shrug. “I wanted to ask you, first. I do not understand why being friends with Bodhi feels different to being friends with you.” He did not know how to explain it, the warmth that chased through his circuits when he made Bodhi smile, or the increasingly strong need to share things with him. “Perhaps it is because we are similar.”

“What?”

Surely Cassian had noticed? “We are both traitors to the Empire. We have both been reprogrammed, in a manner of speaking. We have had our memories and behaviours modified.” A familiar, guilty frown came over Cassian’s face. “Bodhi has even had to have parts of his chassis replaced.”

Cassian nodded slowly. “I guess that makes sense.”

“I did not expect new friendships to be confusing.”

“Sorry, Kay. Organics are always gonna be confusing, I think. The best you can do is talk to Bodhi and make sure he’s okay with things.”

* * *

Takodana proved a much more valuable trip, though a disquieting one. Maz Kanata’s castle was a hotbed of gossip, and sometimes it was difficult to sort fact from fiction, but Cassian was an adept questioner. Rix Tarkar had passed through only weeks ago, and there was one thing that most people agreed on: Tarkar had recently travelled to Maires.

“Dangerous business,” Maz Kanata said, eyeing Cassian shrewdly through her enormous lenses. “Valuable, though, if you know the right sort.” 

“Don’t mention it to Bodhi,” Cassian said as they left the verdant green moon behind. “Not yet. We don’t know anything for certain.”

“There is little else that would be useful on Maires, other than a Bor,” K-2 pointed out. He had already run several searches through his databanks: Maires was an icy, watery world in the Outer Reaches, with few living creatures, no infrastructure, and very little in the way of resources. It was most likely that Tarkar was retrieving a mind-flaying Mairan for use by the Empire. The man would no doubt be paid handsomely for such a dangerous job.

“I know,” said Cassian, his face grim. “But we don’t know for certain, not yet. It’s rumours.”

Still, K-2 felt unhappy. After docking at _Home One_ , reporting to General Draven and Senator Mothma, and sending Cassian to get some food, K-2 went to find Bodhi.

* * *

It was not logical, to feel relief on finding Bodhi safe and well in the hangar, nor to feel a surge of happiness when Bodhi’s face split into a grin upon seeing him. K-2 had to forcibly stop the movement command to reach for him, as though to make sure he was in one piece.

“How did it go?” Bodhi asked, his voice slightly muffled as he leaned over the engine compartment of a speeder.

“We have some useful information.” K-2 hedged his words, remembering Cassian’s instruction. He didn’t always obey Cassian, but he did not want to cause Bodhi any undue worry. Cassian was correct: it was just rumours, even if the rumours were highly likely to be true. 

Luckily Bodhi seemed to accept his non-answer, nodding absently. “That’s good. I guess not every mission has to end with a firefight after all.”

“No, just seventy-eight percent of them.” That was an exaggeration (though only slightly), and it made Bodhi chuckle.

“Hey, there’s a new episode of _Searching the Stars_. Want to watch?”

“That show is utterly dreadful. And it does not understand the first thing about astromechs.”

Bodhi glanced up, an amused glint in his eye. “That’s not a no.”

* * *

Perhaps he had picked up some kind of strange bug, or virus, K-2 thought. That might explain why he suddenly liked to spend time watching appalling sources of entertainment made by organics who did not understand droids.

“A fall from that height, at that velocity, would seriously compromise - if not destroy - that R4 unit’s heat exhaust,” he complained, as the droid on the screen flipped itself upright. “She would also require extensive repairs to her arm shaft hydraulics.”

They were sitting on the floor of Bodhi’s quarters, the datapad now held at an acceptable height by a broken, repurposed astromech arm. Bodhi was cross-legged, cradling a mug of tea with a blanket around his shoulders. For a man from a notoriously cold moon, he seemed incapable of keeping his body temperature at an acceptable level. 

“Sure,” Bodhi said. “That would make a pretty boring show, though, if Hetta had to spend all her time fixing her droid.”

“Hmph.” K-2 looped his elbows around his knee joints, still looking intently at the datapad. “Perhaps she should care for her droid more, then. It would be more interesting than her interminable romances.”

That made Bodhi laugh. “Hey, some of them are fun! You liked the one with the twi’leks.”

“I did not. She is a terrible detective if she did not realise she was having a relationship with identical twin sisters.”

“No arguments there.”

“Why do organics find romance so _interesting_? It is an obsession.”

“Hmm.” Bodhi took a sip of his tea, looking thoughtful. “I s’pose so. I mean, it’s… nice, for a lot of people. Being attracted to people, people being attracted to _you_... it can be good. Fun.”

“And seeing it happen in holos has the same effect?”

“Well… not really? It’s hard to explain. But it’s important to a lot of people, so a lot of holos focus on it. It’s a big part of a lot of organic experience, even when it goes wrong. Maybe especially when it goes wrong, to be honest.”

K-2 watched Bodhi, who was much more interesting than the dreadful show. Bodhi wasn’t looking at the holo any more, but gazing into his mug, swirling the tea absently. He seemed to be thinking over his words. “It makes you feel pretty good,” he began slowly, “Knowing someone likes you, out of everyone. And when _you_ like someone… it’s bit of an adrenaline rush, like the moment your shuttle breaks atmo. You feel excited to see them, and when you touch them it’s as though it lights something up inside you. You find the silliest things about them really interesting, and important. I dunno, it’s hard to explain.” He scrubbed one hand through his hair and gave K-2 a rather sheepish look. “Sorry, I know this probably doesn’t mean anything to you.”

“It is not something droids are programmed to experience,” K-2 agreed. “Nor is it not something Cassian really talks about.”

“Cassian’s got more important things on his mind, probably.”

“But this is something you experience?” K-2 did not know what he wanted the answer to be. He had become very invested in Bodhi’s happiness, so he should want him to have the thing that he talked about so fondly. But the idea that Bodhi might feel this excitement and adrenaline and light about some other organic was an unpleasant one.

A sad little smile came over Bodhi’s face. “Yeah, years ago. I, um. Don’t really remember it, now. I know it happened, but I can’t… I don’t even remember their faces. I tried again, a few months back, with, ah, one of the Pathfinders.” He was blushing, and tight lines appeared around his mouth. K-2 was not sure what this combination meant. “It was - ugh. Apparently that’s not something I get to have any more, either.” Bitterness seeped into his voice, and he gave his head a quick shake. “Sorry Kay, you don’t need to hear this.”

“If you would like to talk about it, I will listen. That’s what friends do, I believe.”

That made Bodhi smile a bit more. “Yeah, that’s true. I don’t know if I do want to talk about it. I just - can’t trust myself with it, right now. Even something so - so simple as him putting his arms around me made me panic, and feel like I was…” he trailed off, his eyes suddenly going very distant. 

K-2 did not need him to finish; he knew how Mairan attacked their victims. He curled his hands into fists, wishing pointlessly that he could have torn that creature apart, and Saw Gerrera with it. Pointless, and illogical. Both were buried in the ruins of Jedha.

“I understand,” he said instead, his vocabulator not quite steady. “I did not mean to bring up something painful.”

“It’s okay. You were just asking questions.”

K-2 hesitated, then pressed on with another question. “You let me touch you sometimes. Is it different, because I’m a droid?”

Bodhi blinked, then frowned. “I… maybe? Well. You feel different. You’re solid, and metal, and have hard edges, and it doesn’t set off the same things in my head.” He twisted the mug around and around in his hands. “Sorry, I hope that doesn’t sound insulting, or anything.”

“A factual statement cannot be insulting,” K-2 pointed out. “I am not organic. I happen to like that I am solid, and metal.”

That made Bodhi chuckle weakly. “Well, good.” He shifted a bit closer, so his arm pressed against K-2’s where they sat side-by-side. “I feel safer with you than with most organics,” he said, as though admitting to something. “Thanks for being here, even if I make you watch crappy holos with inaccurate droid repair.”

“You are very welcome.” 

K-2’s processors were racing, churning through all of the new information Bodhi had just given him. Slowly, watching Bodhi for the slightest sign of tension, he put an arm around his shoulders. Bodhi just shifted closer, his dark head against K-2’s chest plate, where he could no doubt hear how hard his fans were running.


	3. Chapter 3

Over the next few weeks, K-2 and Cassian mapped out more and more of Rix Tarkar’s movements, tracing his connections with crime syndicates and the bounty hunters’ guild. When they were not out on missions and building contacts, they were working on base, doing what they could to make _Home One_ a viable long-term home for the Alliance. Scouts were regularly being sent out to map nearby quadrants to find a suitable place to build the more permanent base, but as the Empire’s claws spread through every corner of the Galaxy the chance of finding somewhere safe became slimmer by the day.

K-2 continued to spend a great deal of time with Bodhi. Cassian definitely noticed this, and sometimes raised his eyebrows, but he did not protest. Not that he should, K-2 thought. He could have other friends, if he wanted to. Cassian always insisted that, within the structure of the Alliance and its lines of command, K-2 should be as free as any of the organics who worked there. There was no reason that K-2 should not socialise with other people.

As well as watching the increasingly ludicrous episodes of _Searching the Stars_ (Hetta had spent the last five episodes chasing a woman who turned out to be her own sister, mysteriously back from the dead, with no consideration for the limits of medical science and bacta), they also played dejarik, and an old Jedhan game involving different coloured stones. Bodhi had drawn the board on a flat piece of scrap metal and repurposed some unusable nuts and bolts for the pieces. It required only the most basic strategic analysis, but K-2 found that he enjoyed it all the same. It was fun, watching Bodhi try to figure out how to beat him, his sharp eyebrows drawn down in concentration. Sometimes they played with others, particularly the rest of Rogue One, but K-2 preferred it when it was just him and Bodhi.

He didn’t hug Bodhi again, though he wanted to. He found himself returning to that memory more and more, trying to dig out the tiniest details. Bodhi still gave him friendly little pats and knocks on his chestplate, and once had laughed so hard at one of Chirrut’s terrible jokes that he had leaned against K-2 and grabbed his arm to keep his feet. K-2 had grumbled and told him he was ridiculous, as he’d swiftly documented everything about Bodhi’s laughter and the way his slight weight had felt against him.

* * *

“Can I ask a favour?” Bodhi asked one day, when he found K-2 in the droidbay.

“Of course.”

“Great. Um.” Bodhi was fidgeting, clenching and unclenching his organic hand. His eyes were rather bloodshot, and K-2 estimated that he had had less than three hours of sleep. “I was - I was meant to go to the firing range with Jyn and Baze, earlier, but I… forgot, I guess. They’re busy, but I should go, and I need someone to spot me.” He suddenly looked a little appalled. “Are you - allowed, at the firing range?”

“Not by myself,” said K-2, already unplugging from the charging port. “Nor am I allowed a blaster. But I can assist.”

“Oh, okay. Great. Thanks.”

They walked towards the range. Bodhi shoved his hands in his pockets and averted his gaze from everyone they passed. K-2 had not seen him this anxious for some time. “You do not seem in a fit state to use the firing range.”

Bodhi flinched slightly. “I’m _fine_ ,” he insisted. “It’s nothing, I’m alright.”

“That does not seem to be an accurate assessment,” said K-2, and Bodhi scowled.

“I know how I feel,” he snapped. “Look, if you don’t want to help then you don’t have to. I can do this.”

K-2 was not phased by being shouted at by humans, but it was unnerving to have it come from Bodhi, who usually had a very mild temper. Sleep-deprivation often made humans upset and angry, K-2 knew, so he did not press. They walked in silence, until Bodhi sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I’m just - not having a good day. I can’t keep things straight in my head. I just want to focus on one thing for a bit.”

The range was, thankfully, empty. Bodhi still looked shaky and unhappy, but there was a determined look in his eye as he pulled his goggles on. K-2 just watched him at first, trying to focus on his shooting form rather than anything else.

He had improved, it had to be said. Baze Malbus was a good teacher; Bodhi could at least now hit the targets, which had very much not been the case before. 

“Okay,” he said, turning to K-2, looking slightly less tense. “Give me all your criticisms.”

“They are not all criticisms,” said K-2, affronted, and secretly pleased when Bodhi gave a half smile. “You can now hit the target sixty-two percent of the time. That is an improvement of eighty percent.”

Bodhi snorted. “Wow, was I that bad before?”

“Yes,” said K-2 simply. “But now you are not. You would be more accurate if your form were better.”

“Show me, then.”

K-2 wished that he could just take the blaster and demonstrate, but all that would achieve was being banned from the firing range entirely. Besides, his chassis and superior programming made it very easy for him to have proper form. Instead he came and stood beside Bodhi.

“It will be easier if I can move you,” he said.

Bodhi bit his lip, then nodded. “Alright.”

K-2 tried to keep his focus on making Bodhi stand as accurately as possible, but his processors were soon surging with data: the texture of Bodhi’s shirt and the warmth of his skin beneath it; the thin cords of muscle of his arms and shoulders; the softness just beneath his jaw when K-2 angled his head slightly, and the movement of his throat when he swallowed. His heart was beating fast, all his anxiety seemingly turning to adrenaline. 

“It is better to be side-on,” said K-2. “You are a smaller target then, and are thirty-four percent less likely to be hit.”

“Right, yeah,” said Bodhi, and his voice sounded oddly strained. He swallowed again, and darted a quick glance up at K-2. “Shall I… shall I try?”

He did, and this time every one of his blasts hit the target. None were in the centre, but three had come close. Bodhi looked delighted, and pride swelled under K-2’s plating.

“Well done,” he said, and Bodhi smiled up at him, a flush spreading over his cheekbones.

* * *

The Imperial trade route came much too close to Hutt Space for comfort, barely three parsec from Nal Hutta, but it was by far the best way to reach the space station. Riz Tarkar, it seemed, was channelling much of his black market goods through this station, assisted by one of the Empire’s commanders.

General Draven had, despite Cassian’s protests, ordered Bodhi along on this mission with them; the freight path was one he had flown a few times before, and Draven was relying on his knowledge getting them through the checkpoints without arousing suspicion. K-2 had shared Cassian’s trepidation; so far they had not told anybody except the General and Mon Mothma about the rumour that Tarkar was acquiring Mairan for the Empire, but if Bodhi were to join them then he should know the stakes.

Bodhi had taken the news grimly, something shutting down behind his eyes. 

“I can ask Draven to reassign you,” Cassian said. “Kay and I can fly out, we’ll be—”

“No.” Bodhi had shaken his head hard, his mouth flat. “No. I’m going.”

Now they were out in the black, heading to the edges of Hutt Space. Bodhi had been pale and quiet for the entire trip so far, his eyes bloodshot and his hands trembling intermittently, but he bluffed their way through the checkpoints confidently enough. K-2 wanted to offer him comfort, but was not sure how.

“We shouldn’t be long,” Cassian told Bodhi as he and K-2 prepared to step out into the space station. He adjusted the cap of the Imperial uniform to sit straight on his head and pulled his shoulders back. “Let us know if there are any problems. If we comm you to leave, just go, alright?”

Bodhi nodded, his arms wrapped around himself. “Sure,” he said hoarsely. “Good luck.”

It was a boring job. K-2 had unarchived his old movement subroutines, which were much more uncomfortable than his usual loping slouch. He walked a pace behind Cassian’s Empire-crisp strides, scoping out potential threats and escape routes. He stood to silent attention as Cassian was shown around the station by a nervous Imperial lieutenant who was clearly desperate to make a good impression. Angling for a promotion, most likely.

On the bridge, a tall officer gave Cassian a rather unimpressed look. This was Commander Delton, the one who Tarkar had been in touch with. “How much for the KX?” he asked, his cold eyes flicking to K-2. “We could use one out here, and it’s not in bad shape.”

 _This is a brand new chassis, thank you very much,_ thought K-2 impatiently. He simulated a scenario where he could snap the man’s neck with one hand. 

“It’s not for sale,” said Cassian in a bored tone, and then pitched his voice low, inviting confidence. “I’m in the market for some more... specialist communication tools. I hear you’re the man to speak to.”

A small smirk crept across Delton’s face. “Ah. What seems to be the problem?”

“The problem is getting them to communicate.” Cassian let a knowing wryness into his tone. “And communicate truthfully.”

“Hm.” Delton glanced around. “I may know a man you can talk to. Though his services do not come cheaply.”

* * *

The ship was quiet. Both Cassian and Bodhi were asleep, and K-2 was alone in the cockpit. Hutt Space was far behind them, but they were still at least twenty hours away from _Home One_. Delton had suggested that Cassian might be able to acquire a ‘specialist tool’ sooner than anticipated, and had invited him to come and see its uses for himself.

K-2’s sensors picked up movement from further back in the ship: tight, quick breathing, the rustle of blankets, a thump of footsteps. He set the ship to autopilot and ducked through to the cramped living quarters.

Bodhi was standing in the middle of the room, white-faced, his large eyes looking somehow even larger. He had his organic hand wrapped around the wrist of his prosthesis, and was breathing very fast.

“What the kriff is happening?” he said, his voice shaking.

“Bodhi,” K-2 stepped forward, and Bodhi backed up, wild-eyed.

“Stay there!” he exclaimed. “Where am I? What’s going on - I don’t - why am I here? What happened to my kriffing _hand?”_

Worry churned through K-2’s processors. He knew that this happened to Bodhi sometimes, that all of his recent memories would temporarily flee, leaving him confused and disorientated, but had never witnessed it. He fought the desire to step closer; Bodhi appeared to be registering him as a threat.

Unsurprising, of course. KX droids were threats.

“Bodhi,” he said, pitching his vocabulator low, keeping his hands at his sides. “I am K-2SO, a reprogrammed security droid. We are friends, and we are on a mission for the Rebel Alliance.”

It didn’t seem to register. Bodhi was staring at him in fear, pressed back against the bulkhead. “This is an Imperial ship,” he said. “You’re an Imperial droid. I don’t - where’s _my_ ship? What have you done?”

“You defected from the Empire nine months ago, with help from Galen Erso.” K-2 watched Bodhi’s face, and saw a flicker of recognition at Erso’s name. He had mourned the man desperately. “You helped the Alliance to secure plans for the Death Star, so that it could be destroyed. You lost your arm in the battle.”

“I - the Death Star?” Bodhi whispered. “It - it was… there was a fault, in the reactor… I’m the pilot, I was the pilot.”

Ah, of course. K-2 should remember that old mantra. “That’s right. You were the pilot. You still are. You’re Rogue One’s pilot.”

“Rogue - I don’t—” Bodhi put his face in his hands, his breathing coming in hitches. K-2 heard him whispering, _I’m the pilot, I brought the message, I’m the pilot_ to himself. Then he lifted his head. “Kay?”

The worry turned to relief. “That’s right.”

“Oh - oh kriff. I - fuck, fuck, _Kay_.” He dropped his hands and stumbled forwards. K-2 caught his shoulders, feeling the tremors running through him. “I forgot, I didn’t - I woke up and none of it was there. I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologise.”

“I’m so kriffing _broken_.” Bodhi clung to his arms, as though to anchor himself to something. “I didn’t know you at all.”

“But you remember now.”

“I - I guess so.” 

“Kay?” Cassian appeared in the doorway, his hair standing on end, blaster in his hand. “What’s going on?” He took in the scene, frowning slightly. “Bodhi, are you alright?”

“Yes,” said Bodhi, not very convincingly. “Sorry, just - nightmares. Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“It’s fine.” Cassian’s shoulders relaxed. “How far out are we?”

“We will reach _Home One_ in nineteen-point-five hours,” said K-2. He was still holding Bodhi’s shoulders, his thumbs moving in slow strokes over the taut muscle. He hadn’t realised he was doing it. “The scans are clear.”

“Great. Want me to take over for a bit?”

“No,” said Bodhi abruptly. “I’ll - I’ll do it.”

“Bodhi—”

“I’ll do it!” he snapped. “I mean… I don’t think I could go back to sleep right now. I need to distract myself.”

Cassian considered this, and then nodded slowly. “Okay. Wake me up in a few hours, alright?”

Bodhi’s hands were shaking as he took over the controls, but he relaxed minutely as he brought the ship out of autopilot. He let out a long, shuddering breath. K-2 sat in the co-pilot’s seat and watched him carefully.

“You should sleep,” K-2 told Bodhi after a few moments of silence. “You cannot concentrate effectively when suffering sleep deprivation.”

Bodhi’s jaw clenched. “Tell me something I don’t know,” he snapped, and his hands tightened on the steering column. “I _can’t_ sleep, Kay, so leave it.”

“It is medically—”

“ _Leave_ it,” said Bodhi again, his voice frayed at the edges. “You don’t sleep, Kay, so you don’t know, alright?”

“I do not sleep, but I do have extensive medical files.”

Bodhi snorted. “I don’t think your medical files have anything that’ll help me.” He rubbed at his already red eyes. “I had absolutely no idea where I was just now. I didn’t remember a damn thing that had happened to me. I don’t think I could have even told you my kriffing _name_. And it’s not the first time it’s happened. I never know, when I go to sleep, if I’ll wake up and remember anything. Maybe one day I’ll never remember again, and it’ll finally get me.”

“Bodhi—”

“And it’s not just when I wake up, though that’s the worst. Sometimes I’ll - I’ll be in the middle of a job, or a conversation, and suddenly it’s like it all goes away. I won’t know why I’m there, or who anyone else is, and it’s _terrifying_.” 

“Bodhi,” K-2 tried again, distress building in his core because Bodhi looked close to tears. “I understand that this frightens you.”

“I don’t think I used to be scared, but now I’m scared of every damn thing. I _hate_ this.”

“I know what it’s like, to wake up with no memory of yourself or what you are.”

That made Bodhi blink, and he looked at K-2. “I know you do,” he said slowly. 

“It is not the same, of course. If my memories are backed up I can retrieve them, and they are no longer taken from me completely, except for Scarif. But there are many years of my existence that are irretrievable.”

Bodhi nodded, turning his gaze out of the viewport, to the vast expanse of space. “Yeah. I - I sometimes forget things happening now, but then it comes back. But a lot of things just seem to be gone. I don’t know what my Amma looked like. I don’t remember if I had siblings, or cousins. Chirrut was singing some old Jedhan song the other day, and it was like I’d never heard it before. That thing, Bor Gullet, it took all of that.” He screwed his eyes shut. “I was telling the truth,” he said hopelessly. “I was telling the truth, and it still took everything.”

“It is illogical, but I wish we could upload your memories.”

“So do I. At least some of them. When I was in medbay, after Scarif, they did a scan of my brain, to see how bad the damage was. It was like a moon moth had just… eaten whole parts of it. They don’t think there’s any way to fix it.”

Outside the ship, a distant nebula flared blue, lighting Bodhi’s scarred face in a strange glow. 

“I’ve thought about leaving, before. What if it had happened earlier, on this mission? You were relying on me remembering how to get through these check points, but how can you possibly trust my memory? I don’t trust it. I could easily get us all killed, or captured.”

“There are many ways of dealing with memory loss,” said K-2. “I will be able to find things that might help you. And you do not have to come on missions with us. You do not have to be the pilot.”

Bodhi made a choked noise. “If I’m not the pilot, then what am I?” 

“You do not have to be one thing, just because it is what you used to do.”

“Maybe.”

They flew in silence for a few more moments, K-2’s processors running harder and faster. Then he stood and went to retrieve a datapad and cable from the ship’s living quarters.

“I have an idea,” he said, when he returned to the cockpit. “And because it is my idea, it is a good one, and you should try it. Go back to autopilot.”

A half-smile pulled at Bodhi’s mouth. “Okay. What’s your idea?”

K-2 plugged the datapad into the cable and handed it to Bodhi, then plugged the other end into a port on his arm. He had occasionally done this for Cassian, usually when he was trying to remember some crucial detail of a location or conversation. When he was fully connected with the datapad, he pulled up some memory files.

“I don’t - oh.” Bodhi looked up at Kay and then back to the datapad, a tiny line appearing between his eyebrows. 

_Don’t you see? We’re the same_ , the Bodhi on the datapad said, rain streaking down his face. _Are you going to help me, or not?_

K-2 cycled through some of his favourite memories of Bodhi, though he knew that Bodhi would not see the importance of some of them: playing sabacc with Rogue One, Jyn and Bodhi laughing at Baze when he lost yet again; Bodhi’s delight when he figured out the problem with their shuttle’s power converters; Bodhi whooping after piloting the ship through an asteroid field; Bodhi laughing at some ludicrous plot point in _Searching the Stars_ ; looking pleased and proud when he hit the target at the blaster range; sipping Deychin tea for the first time; leaning against K-2 with a long metal arm around his shoulders; carefully reaching into K-2’s chest compartment, biting his lip—

That last one wasn’t supposed to be there. K-2 shut the link down, and the datapad went dark. Bodhi stared at the blank screen for a moment, and then up at K-2, his eyes rather bright.

“Kay,” he said, his voice crackling as though with static. “I - thank you. I didn’t know you had all of this.”

“I have memory files for all of Rogue One. It is the best way to analyse your behaviour and build algorithms to understand you.” 

“Right. Of course.” Bodhi scrubbed the back of his organic hand across his eyes.

“I thought it would help. Was I correct?”

“I… yeah.” Bodhi smiled rather sadly. “Yeah, it did. Thank you.” He reached across the space between them and rested his hand on K-2’s shoulder for a moment. 

Longing and sadness tangled through K-2’s wiring. For a brief, mad instant he let himself simulate a scenario where he reached for Bodhi, pulled him across the small space and into his arms. Bodhi could lean into him, his warmth seeping into K-2’s plating, and K-2 would be able to feel his heartbeat steadying. Maybe Bodhi would find the hum of his fans and servomotors comforting.

He shut that simulation down. Perhaps there was some sort of fault in his system, making him want something he should have no capacity to want. Friendship was one thing, but K-2 suspected that most organic friendships did not come with this aching longing for closeness. Besides, it was not as though Bodhi would ever want the same thing. He had been very clear that intimacy was now a source of stress and trauma-response, and even if it were not… organics hardly looked to droids for romantic connection. Pleasure droids existed, as tools for sex, but that was hardly the same thing. An organic having a romantic relationship with a security droid, one built for strength and violence, was ludicrous.

Across from him Bodhi looked more relaxed, and he pushed his messy hair out of his eyes as he reached across the control panel. K-2 wanted to do that for him, to touch his hair, have Bodhi lean into the touch, enjoy it, and maybe he could—

K-2 shut that simulation down as well, and wished he could delete the longing that was rolling through his systems.

* * *

“We’ve got to be smart about this,” said Cassian, as he and Jyn geared up. Almost two weeks had passed since Cassian had made contact with Commander Delton, and they had finally locked onto some positive intel about the Imperial facility housing the Mairan. 

“I’m confident in your ability to create explosions,” said K-2, as dryly as possible.

“Not just explosions,” said Cassian. “Our first aim is to rescue any prisoners. Second aim: destroy the base, and everything in it. If that’s not possible without risking the prisoners, then we don’t do it, alright?”

“Plan B is to get rid of that damn creature,” said Jyn, tucking grenades into the lining of her Imperial-standard jacket. She could hide a gratifying number of weapons on her person, considering how small she was. “Even if we can’t blow the base, we can at least kill it so they can’t use it on people.”

Her eyes flicked to the cockpit, where Bodhi was at the controls. He had insisted on coming on this mission, refusing to be left behind. “I want to make sure that thing can’t hurt anyone else,” he’d said quietly, his expression so fierce that nobody had contradicted him. Cassian hadn’t looked particularly happy with the idea, but had accepted it.

“We need to stay in contact,” Cassian continued, picking up the thread of his instructions. “Commlinks on, please. Kay, once you’ve loaded the virus get back to the shuttle. If Bodhi’s not heard from us within the hour...”

“Codes clear. Landing in five,” Bodhi called through, sounding almost normal. “Hold on, everyone.”

"Let's do this." Jyn pulled a black helmet over her head and shoved a blaster into the holster at her hip. "May the Force be with us."

* * *

Things started well. Their falsified scandocs got them through security, and no one searched their shuttle. They left Bodhi on-board, and he gave them a tight little smile before they left, rapping his knuckles gently against K-2’s chestplate. No one looked twice at the three of them as they moved through the corridors. When they reached a fork, they came to a halt.

“Good luck,” whispered Jyn.

Cassian gave K-2 a nod. “You know what to do.”

“Yes, yes.” He’d sliced into more Imperial system mainframes than Cassian had had mess hall dinners. “Don’t get caught. Or shot. Or blown up.”

Jyn gave a soft laugh. “We’ll try,” she said. “Don’t be late picking us up.”

She and Cassian peeled away down the left-hand corridor, the picture of an Imperial officer and his personal guard. 

K-2 had saved files of the facility blueprints, so it was not difficult to find his way to a quiet terminal, two floors away from the main control room. He sliced into the mainframe and began to upload the virus that would compromise the facility’s security, enabling Cassian and Jyn to plant incendiary devices throughout the building and then free the prisoners. The virus upload would take approximately eight minutes. Then he would return to the shuttle, and he and Bodhi would fly to the back entrance to pick up Cassian, Jyn, and the prisoners.

Four minutes through the upload K-2 heard the sound of approaching boots. Four people, he estimated: one officer, three Stormtroopers. 

He quickly commed the others. “I may be discovered.”

Cassian swore softly. “How long for the upload?”

“Three minutes and forty-two seconds. If I am questioned, I will attempt to distract them until the upload is complete.”

“Alright.” Cassian’s voice was tense. “Good luck. Be careful.”

Three minutes and twelve seconds left, and a sharp-faced Imperial officer rounded the corner, flanked by three Stormtroopers. “What are you doing, droid?” the officer asked, somehow managing to look down her nose at him despite his towering height.

K-2 searched frantically through his archived Imperial command files for a convincing lie. “Recording security logs,” he replied, keeping his vocabulator free of inflection. 

“No droid has been sent to this sector today. What is your designation?”

It took a fraction of a second to find a KX designation for this facility. “I am designated K-3JT.”

The woman raised one eyebrow. “Incorrect. I had K-3JT sent to the mechanical bay this morning.” She tapped her foot. “We need to check your diagnostics.”

Two minutes to go. “No,” K-2 said desperately, even though a correctly programmed KX would never say such a thing. He should just incapacitate her, but the Stormtroopers had blasters, and he only had one arm while the dataspike was inserted. “I’m nearly done with the… security logs…”

The officer looked immediately suspicious. “Take this droid to engineering,” she said. “We’ll get someone to look at it later.”

One minute and twenty-four seconds. If he uploaded the virus, Cassian and Jyn could complete the mission. One Stormtrooper had pulled out a restraining bolt. In the remaining few seconds, K-2SO did two things: he sent an alert to the others, and activated the timer attached to his core. If he did not cancel it within thirty minutes, it would initiate a memory wipe. Nobody would be able to mine him for information on the Alliance.

 _“Kay?”_ Cassian’s voice crackled over the comm. _“Are you alright? Come in…”_

 _“Kay, what’s happening? Where are you?”_ Bodhi sounded scared. K-2 wished he could tell him not to worry, even if it would be a lie.

The restraining bolt clicked against his chestplate, and all sensory input ceased.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robot sex!

K-2SO rebooted. His essential processes came back online first. He had no visual or auditory input, and his comms were offline. Panic stirred in his core, and he began a deep scan. Before the brief gap in his memory between the terminal and wherever he was now, his memories were intact. The datawipe timer had been counting down for twenty-six minutes. The restraining bolt had been removed, but—

“Kay?” Bodhi’s voice was a frantic whisper. “You with me?”

He cancelled the datawipe. His vocabulator came back online just as his optics flickered on. He was in a workroom, full of tools and spare parts. A half-built O-series pilot droid was strung up in the corner, skullplate open and empty. Bodhi Rook stood in front of K-2SO, his expression anxious. He held the restraining bolt in his cybernetic hand.

An intense flood of emotion rushed through K-2’s core, a confusing mixture of happiness and relief and fear. “Bodhi. You should not be here.”

Bodhi seemed to sag with relief. “Kriff, I’m so glad I found you, I thought I might be too late.” His voice shook at this last part, and he seized K-2’s hand in his own. There was a new surge of data, as Bodhi’s long, warm fingers closed around his palm, but this was not the time to focus on such things. “Listen. They’re looking for me, I’m pretty sure. They don’t know I’m with you, so you can get out of here.”

“We will _both_ get out of here.”

Bodhi shook his head frantically. “Kay, if they find us both, they’ll fry you with ion blasts and take me anyway. You can get back to the shuttle and get Jyn and Cassian out, okay?”

“I am not leaving you.” K-2 wrapped his own hand around Bodhi’s, distress building under his plating. 

Bodhi’s expression was determined, his dark eyes glittering. “I might be able to get away,” he said. “But you’ve got to get to the others, alright? There’s not much time.” 

There were heavy boots approaching, and a harsh voice said, “He went this way!” There was a flash of fear on Bodhi’s face, quickly mastered. He shoved the restraining bolt into the inside pocket of his jacket, and then pulled another from the breast pocket.

“This one’s been de-activated,” he said, pressing it against K-2’s chest. It stuck fast, but there was not even a flicker of interference with K-2’s systems. “Get the others out, Kay.” Then he let go of K-2’s hand and reached up, curling his hand instead around K-2’s head. He tugged him down, leaned up on his toes, and pressed a hard, desperate kiss over K-2’s vocoder grill. He met K-2’s optics for a moment, a small, shaky smile playing over his mouth.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “That might be my only chance.” 

“Bodhi—” K-2 began, already reaching for him, but then the door to the workroom slid open and Bodhi hurriedly stepped back.

An Imperial officer strode into the room, followed by a group of five Stormtroopers. Two of them held ion weapons. K-2 had just enough time to dim his optics and let his arms fall loose, as though the restraining bolt were keeping him inactive. “There you are, you Rebel rat,” said the officer, striding into the room. Bodhi’s lips set in a firm line, and he slowly turned around.

“Here I am,” he said.

“There’s nothing here to help you, you know,” the officer continued, as one of the Stormtroopers pulled Bodhi forwards and slapped a pair of cuffs around his wrists. The officer walked around Bodhi and stopped right in front of K-2, looking him up-and-down. “You think you can take one of our droids to help you? Pathetic.” 

It took enormous effort for K-2 to keep still, to not leap to Bodhi’s aid. Bodhi was right: those ion weapons would, at best, knock out his primary functions for some time. At worst, they would fry his circuitry and his data core. If he held still, there was still a chance that he could undertake a successful rescue.

“Shall we take him to the prison block, sir?”

“No.” The officer said thoughtfully, turning away from K-2. “No, I think we need to know the truth about why he’s snuck in here. Take him to interrogation and alert Commander Delton - he’ll know what to do.”

* * *

Bodhi should have left without K-2. He could have taken the shuttle to the back entrance to await Cassian and Jyn. He had risked himself to find K-2, and give him this chance. 

K-2 was not going to leave him behind.

He radioed Cassian as he moved through the base. “You’re safe?” said Cassian. “Where’s Bodhi?”

“Yes, I am unharmed. Bodhi has been captured. He told me to find you and leave. I am going to save him.”

Cassian swore softly. “We can’t stay here much longer. Jyn and I have found another way into the cell block, but—” A pause, a grunt of effort from Cassian— “Someone needs to get back to the shuttle. We’re blowing this place as soon as we can.”

“I will find Bodhi and return to the ship.”

The old Cassian might have ordered him not to. The Cassian that had returned from Scarif was not quite the same. “Good luck,” he said instead. “Don’t get caught again.”

* * *

The facility’s interrogation rooms were, of course, in the lowest levels. K-2 had to move carefully, needing to avoid any other officers who might ask what he was doing. He found an elevator, and two Stormtroopers standing outside it.

These two did not have ion weapons. K-2 disposed of them, and took one of their blasters. Anger and fear pulsed through his circuits. They had taken Bodhi, they were going to hurt him, and K-2 would not allow that to happen.

He sliced into the elevator terminal, overrode all other commands, and took it directly to the lowest floor.

The elevator doors slid open in a dark space. K-2’s temperature sensors told him that the temperature hovered at one degree celsius. He adjusted his optics to the darkness, and saw a long, empty corridor stretching ahead of him. He checked his comms: as expected, he was out of range. 

No matter. He stepped into the freezing corridor, his feet clanking against the metal floor. It had been approximately thirteen minutes since Bodhi had been taken. 

The corridor sloped down, and further down. He was, he calculated, now beneath the facility, and it was getting colder. The ambient temperature had dropped to minus-one-point-five degrees celsius. Not cold enough to affect his functions, but cold enough to be extremely uncomfortable for humans. 

After four minutes of walking, K-2 came upon a door, guarded by another Stormtrooper. The trooper had just enough time to say, “Stop there, droid,” and, “Hey, wait—” before K-2 picked him up and slammed his head against the wall. He slumped to the ground, and K-2 aimed his stolen blaster at the control panel. 

The door slid open, revealing a small room, empty except for an enormous tank, and a metal chair bolted to the floor. K-2 took in the scene, calculating fast: Bodhi, slumped in the chair, his wrists clamped to its arms, ankles to its legs, his head hung low. Behind him, tall and straight, was Commander Delton. And before him, clearly just lifted from its tank by the metal cage beside it…

The Mairan was almost as tall as a man, a pulsing, glistening brown mass. It slowly heaved and dragged itself forward, reaching for Bodhi’s slumped form with its tumoured tentacles. The tip of one crept over his face in something like a caress, sliding into his hair, pulling his head upright.

K-2 should not be capable of feeling revulsion, but he could not otherwise describe the sensation that momentarily froze his limbs. Then he saw a tiny movement from Bodhi, the fingers of his cybernetic hand moving, somehow shifting an object from his sleeve to his palm. One of Jyn’s small grenades. At once, K-2 knew what Bodhi planned to do, and all his movement commands kicked back in.

He stepped into the room, blaster raised and ready. Commander Delton, who had been watching the Mairan’s tentacles wrap lovingly around Bodhi’s head and shoulders with keen interest, looked up.

“What?” he snapped. “Who sent you, droid?”

K-2 should tear this man limb from limb. He should give him to this monster, let it feed on his mind until there was nothing left. “I sent _myself_ ,” he said, and pulled the trigger. Delton had the briefest of moments to look gratifyingly surprised and confused, before crumpling to the floor.

Then K-2 turned the blaster on the Mairan, aiming for its tiny, sightless eyes. The thing made a terrible sound when the bolt hit it, its scorched hide giving off a dreadful, bitter smell, and it thrashed and quailed, pulling its tentacles back. K-2 seized the creature and dragged it away from Bodhi, his sensors registering its stench, the disgusting clamminess of it as it writhed and tried to wind its tentacles around his limbs. To no avail, of course: K-2’s CPU was untouchable. 

It was heavy, but K-2’s durasteel limbs were capable of bending metal beams. He lifted the writhing Mairan, disgust crawling through every circuit, and shoved it bodily back into its tank, where it landed with a dull splash.

Bodhi made a sound of distress, and all of K-2’s senses snapped back to him. He was no longer slumped in the chair but struggling, wide-eyed, still with the grenade in his hand. K-2 returned to him, and slammed his fist against the controls for the chair, which crumpled and sparked. The manacles binding Bodhi’s wrists and ankles sprang open, and K-2 knelt down before him.

“Bodhi?”

Bodhi stared at him for a few seconds, no recognition in his face, and terror shot through K-2’s core like a blaster bolt. Was he too late? Had that creature already taken the last nine months from him?

“Bodhi,” K-2 repeated desperately. He couldn’t be too late. “Bodhi, come back. I need you to come back.” His vocabulator pitched and whined, and he did not even try to master it. “We need you,” he tried again. “You’re the pilot, Bodhi.”

He blinked, dark eyes drifting into focus. “Kay?” Bodhi whispered, his voice cobweb thin. He was shaking with cold, his breath misting the air before him. “Kay, you’re - you’re here.”

 _Thank the Maker_. “Of course I am.” Relieved, K-2 gently took the grenade from Bodhi’s hand. “I told you I wasn’t going to leave you behind.”

Bodhi swallowed. “I was - was going to—”

“I know what you were going to do.”

“Th-they searched me, but they d-didn’t find it. In a c-compartment on my wr-wrist.” 

K-2 hadn’t known that Bodhi had built a compartment into his cybernetic arm. “That was resourceful. And brave. You can still do as you planned - you just don’t have to blow yourself up with it. I would rather you didn’t, in fact. I have… become very fond of you.”

Bodhi met his eyes, his narrow face pale, dripping with cold water where the Mairan’s limbs had touched him. K-2 brushed his fingers over his unscarred cheek and into his hair, as though he could remove the memory of those tentacles. Bodhi shuddered, then suddenly surged forward and flung his arms around K-2’s neck.

“Kriff,” he choked. “You’re _here_.”

“I’m here. And now we are both going to leave.” K-2 hugged him carefully, redirecting excess heat to the vents in his arms to try and warm Bodhi a little. He wished that he could enjoy this moment, but he could only register that Bodhi was freezing, and in shock, and that they had little time to waste. Maybe they could try hugging again later.

Gently, he disengaged Bodhi’s arms and helped him to his feet. “We may need to run,” he said firmly. “Do you think you can?”

Bodhi nodded, setting his jaw though his teeth were now chattering. “Yes. Yes, I c-can run.”

“Are you sure?”

“ _Yes._ ”

“Good. We will go to the shuttle, we will pick up Cassian and Jyn, and then we will go home. There may be some shooting.”

Another nod. “I can do that.”

“First, though…” K-2 held the grenade out to him. “Would you like to do the honours?”

Bodhi stared at the grenade for a moment, as though not sure what it was. Then a grim sort of smile came over his face, and he took it. He pressed the button to arm it, turned, and flung it as hard as he could into the Mairan’s tank, where it landed with a small _plop_.

K-2 took his hand. “And now,” he said, “we run.”

They made it to the elevator just as the explosion rocked through the corridor.

* * *

K-2SO did not get a chance to speak to Bodhi at all, never mind alone, until they were back on _Home One_. The four prisoners (two humans, a Cerean, and a very bad-tempered Wookiee) were taken for medical attention and questioning. Cassian, Jyn, K-2 and Bodhi were summoned to General Draven for a debrief. Bodhi stumbled his way through his own story, eyes distant, worrying at the cuffs of the jacket Cassian had lent him. K-2 fought down the urge to steady him, though everything in him, down to the last wire, wanted to hold him.

“Well,” said General Draven eventually, glaring at them all through narrowed eyes. “I suppose we must count our blessings. You nearly lost intel when they caught your droid, and when they caught your damn pilot - heroics aren’t always the best response in these situations, Rook - but it looks like things came out alright. I want that report this time tomorrow, Captain Andor. Dismissed.”

“Bodhi,” Cassian caught up to him as they finally left Draven’s office. “Are you sure you don’t need to go to medbay?”

“I’m sure.” Bodhi had his arms wrapped around himself, his gaze still not entirely focused. “I’m not hurt.”

Cassian nodded doubtfully. “Thanks for going after Kay.” 

Bodhi blinked, a little light coming back into his eyes. “Of course. I couldn’t leave him behind.”

Jyn smiled, coming up on Bodhi’s other side. “Another excellent rescue. It’s turning into your speciality, Bodhi.”

“Kriff, I hope not,” Bodhi muttered, though he almost smiled. “I’m… gonna try and sleep, maybe.”

“Good idea,” said Jyn. “ _We_ are going to get some food. Come on, Cassian.” 

As Jyn seized Cassian’s arm and dragged him towards the mess hall, K-2 had to admit that her friendship might be good for him. It was rather nice, not being the only one making sure Cassian occasionally ate a meal.

Their departure left Bodhi and K-2 alone. Bodhi still had his arms wrapped around his chest, still shivering a little. K-2 knew that he had to be careful, for so many reasons, but he finally gave in to the movement command that had been churning around in his processors for hours and touched Bodhi. Just his shoulder, as gentle a grasp as he could manage. 

“Can you… stay with me, for a bit?” Bodhi asked. “I know I can’t sleep, and I don’t… if you need to shut down, that’s fine.”

“I was able to charge on the ship.” K-2 brushed his thumb over the sharp edge of Bodhi’s shoulder. “Besides, there is a new episode of _Searching the Stars_.”

* * *

Bodhi’s quarters had barely changed at all - the same tools strewn on the workbench, the same spiky plant, its purple flower now twice its original size, the same notes pinned to the walls - but somehow everything looked different. 

The silence between them seemed to grow, to change into something almost physical, a magnetic field that K-2 was not sure how to cross. Usually he would just speak his mind, not caring how tactless people might think him, but he found that even if his processors could come up with something to say, he did not want to be tactless with Bodhi. But he had absolutely no idea what would be truly welcome now, whether they had stepped into something new or not. Most of his simulations were based on imperfect understanding and wild hopes.

K-2 tried to calm the frantic energy spinning around his circuits. Even if they had somehow, impossibly moved into something else ( _Bodhi’s lips pressed against his faceplate, Bodhi’s hand in his_ ) he needed to be logical. Bodhi was newly traumatised, exhausted… there was no reason to push any of this now. Bodhi wanted some company, and some distraction, and maybe once he’d slept and recovered a little… maybe then. 

He stood quietly while Bodhi made tea. The routine of its preparation seemed to calm him, and by the time he'd wrapped his hands around a steaming mug he looked less haunted.

“Thank you," he said. "For saving me.”

“You saved me first,” K-2 pointed out. “And you would not have required saving had I not been caught.”

Bodhi shrugged. “Well, I’m gonna say that makes us square.” He slowly and shakily sat down on his bunk, clutching the mug of tea like a lifeline. K-2 approached the bed and, when Bodhi didn’t react, lowered himself to sit on the floor facing him. He folded his fingers into his palms, to stop himself reaching for Bodhi.

After a few moments of quiet, Bodhi spoke. “Did you mean it, what you said back there? I - it’s all a bit mixed up, but you said you’d become… fond. Of me.”

Ah. Apparently they were going to discuss this now. “Yes. Of course I meant it. I mean most things I say. In fact, I do not think I expressed myself strongly enough, but it did not seem the time for excessive explanation.”

A strange expression moved over Bodhi’s face. “Oh. That’s…” He broke off and drew in a shaky breath. “I know I kissed you - I did, didn’t I? - but just because I did that doesn’t mean you have to…”

“You kissed me,” K-2 confirmed, hope rising quickly, dismissing his resolve to broach this subject later. “Did you mean _that_?”

Bodhi swallowed, and nodded. Something bright and warm shot through K-2’s core. “I’ve wanted to do it for so long. Weeks, or - months, maybe. But I don’t want you to feel that you have to… I know it’s not the same, for droids. It’s not your problem to deal with.”

“I would, in fact, like it to be my problem.” K-2 leaned forward. “I did not understand what you meant, when you said that touching someone could feel like having something light up inside you. But for some time, all I want is to touch you, and when I do, it is as though my capacitors are releasing excess electricity.”

“Oh.” Bodhi stared at him. “Is that a good thing?”

“In most circumstances? No. But in this one… yes. I believe so.”

They looked at one another for two-point-one seconds, though it felt like minutes. Bodhi’s eyes were huge and dark, his entire body wound like a taut spring. K-2 took the mug from his hands and set it on the ground, and then Bodhi almost threw himself forward off the bed, colliding hard with K-2’s chestplate, arms wrapped tight around his chassis. K-2 hesitated for zero-point-five seconds before returning the sudden embrace, pulling Bodhi half into his lap, cradling his head against his shoulder. Bodhi’s hair was wonderfully soft, and K-2 dared to let his fingertips trail through it. 

“I couldn’t bear it,” Bodhi whispered, his voice muffled by durasteel plating. “When they took you, I couldn’t - we already nearly lost you once, and this time I - I hadn’t even told you—”

“And I felt the same, when they took you. When I found you, I thought that I was too late.”

Bodhi pulled back, his expression open and desperate. K-2 let himself brush the tips of his fingers against Bodhi’s unscarred cheek, at the edge of his neat beard. Bodhi’s cybernetic hand came up over his, slim metal fingers curling around his longer, stronger ones. Longing tore through K-2’s systems. 

“Kriff,” Bodhi choked out, and K-2 could _feel_ his voice through his fingers. “Kay, I - I don’t know what this is, but - can I kiss you again?”

K-2 tried to stay calm, even though his fans had begun to run very hard. “Please do.”

Bodhi didn’t kiss him straight away, though. He stroked his palm over the smooth durasteel of his chestplate, up to his neck-well, fingertips skating lightly along the rim, and then gently along the interlocking links that made up his neck. K-2 could feel none of it, technically, but he recorded every minute detail just the same: the faint line of concentration between Bodhi’s eyebrows, the way he tugged his lower lip in with his teeth, the fact that his body temperature was elevated, the shift of muscles under his hands.

“You don’t have any sensors in your faceplate, right?” Bodhi asked quietly, now running his fingers over K-2’s vocoder grill.

“None,” K-2 confirmed. “But that does not mean I am not enjoying this.”

Bodhi smiled at that, and swept his palm over the smooth curve of K-2’s skull. “That’s good,” he said. He hesitated, briefly, then leaned forward and pressed another kiss to his vocoder. Even without sensory data, K-2 could tell that this one was softer and gentler than the previous one, his lips lingering before pulling away. “But I want you to feel things.”

K-2 had kept his hands still while Bodhi had explored, unwilling to do anything that might make him pull away, but that seemed to be his cue. He once again reached up and cupped Bodhi's jaw, pleased when Bodhi leaned into it. “I have wanted to touch you for a long time,” he said. “Like an incessant movement command that I can’t shut down.” Under his fingers he could feel the warmth of Bodhi’s skin and roughness of his beard, the tiny, delicate movements in his face as he swallowed. 

“Oh,” said Bodhi, realisation appearing on his face. “Your hands. Obviously, Bodhi, you idiot.” He turned his head, and this time pressed his lips to K-2’s palm, unleashing a sudden torrent of data. He kissed across the blunt square of his palm, and then a similarly gentle kiss to each fingertip, his lips warm and soft, the hint of the greater warmth and softness of his mouth utterly captivating. K-2’s vocabulator made an odd glitching sound, and Bodhi looked a little pleased with himself. “Is that better?”

“Yes.” Was this why organics were so obsessed with physical touch? “Bodhi. I would like to touch you.”

“Yes. Yes.” Bodhi kissed his palm again. K-2 helped him push Cassian's jacket off his shoulders, and then he tugged his shirt up over his head and dropped it on the floor. He shifted slightly in K-2’s lap, looking suddenly uncertain. “Um. Is this okay?”

It was strange, K-2 thought. Bodhi was not unlike Cassian, in so many ways. Their skin tone was within a similar range. Both had dark eyes and hair. They were of average height and build for humans. They both had pale scars littering their bodies. They both had a scattering of hair on their chests, and a dark trail leading from their navel. But seeing Bodhi like this… K-2 _wanted_. It was as though a new, urgent directive had been loaded to his system, but he didn’t even know where to start.

“Of course it is.” 

The shy smile flickered over Bodhi’s face again. K-2 touched his face again, wanting to map every curve of his features, to calculate the exact angles of his nose and jaw. He stroked his fingers through his hair, tugging it out of its tie so it fell in loose tangles on Bodhi’s shoulders. His hair slid through K-2’s fingers, a new sensation that sent shivery little sparks through him. When K-2 touched the soft skin at his throat he felt his pulse jumping, and Bodhi swallowed. 

“Keep - keep going,” he said, his voice suddenly rather hoarse. 

The angle of his collarbone, the slope of his shoulders. The dark freckles that dotted across his skin, every one utterly fascinating. K-2 mapped them, touching each one, memorising their exact placement on Bodhi’s skin. K-2 curled his fingers around the curve of his ribs, slender and breakable, this protection for his heart and his lungs. Bodhi’s breathing was coming faster now, his cheeks flushed, biting his lower lip. His pupils dilated by fourteen percent. When K-2 began to trace the scar on his cheek, registering the difference in texture between skin and scar tissue, he tensed for the first time.

“Does this hurt?” K-2 asked, pulling his hand away. It should not, but human pain responses were not always perfectly logical. 

Bodhi shook his head. “No. I’m just - not used to the scars. Or my arm. Silly, really.”

“I like your scars,” K-2 said, and immediately wondered if that was the wrong thing to say. He should not like something that had caused Bodhi pain. 

“You do?”

“Yes. They are visually interesting. They are a reminder of what you have survived. You have these…” He touched the scar again, and then another, and then the inside of his left elbow, just above where his organic arm ended and the prosthesis began. “And yet you’re alive. And like me, in a small way."

A complicated expression moved over Bodhi’s face, and he pressed his metal palm to K-2’s faceplate, leaning closer. “Kay,” he said, and then swallowed. “I - I don’t know what I’m doing, really. I don’t know how this is going to work, or what this even _is_. But I want to - try and make you feel good.”

“I would like that.”

A smile quirked Bodhi’s mouth. “We’ll have to experiment, I think. I don’t know what'll work for you, but I have an idea.” He rested his organic hand against the access hatch on K-2’s chest. “You kept that memory, of me fixing you up. And I know you’ve got really powerful internal sensors.”

K-2’s fans began to run harder, anticipation and desire rising. “Yes.”

“Yeah?” Bodhi was smiling more broadly now. “And - and you can touch me. If you want.”

K-2’s CPU was extremely powerful. He could run multiple processes simultaneously, all with complete focus. But when Bodhi eased his chest compartment open, it became difficult to pay attention to anything else. 

“You should wear gloves,” he said. “My internal components are heating up.”

“I’ll be fine,” said Bodhi. “I want to feel you properly.” And before K-2 could say anything else, he reached into his chest, stroking his bare fingers against a cluster of wires.

It should be no different to regular maintenance. K-2 had had organic hands on his wiring plenty of times, there was no reason for it to create different sensations now, but it _did_. Bodhi’s fingers sliding against his wiring sent shivery little waves of pleasure through him, and when he brushed against a pressure sensor it created a bolt of ecstasy that disrupted his speech subroutines.

“Is that good?” Bodhi asked in a low voice. He pressed closer to K-2, watching him.

“Ye - yes, I - _Bodhi_ —” K-2’s vocabulator crackled as Bodhi rubbed more firmly against that sensor, making heat and pleasure radiate through K-2’s internal components. 

“Kriff,” said Bodhi, staring intently at K-2 as he traced a path of wiring, seeking other sensors. “I hoped this would work, but I didn’t think—”

“My hardware has never - done this before,” K-2 managed to say. His hands were on Bodhi’s waist, unable to process any movement, too overwhelmed by what Bodhi was doing to him. “It has not - reacted like this - to anyone else. Maker, there’s so much _input_.”

Bodhi licked his lips, his eyes somehow even darker. “I can give you more of that,” he said, and pressed even closer, his hand reaching further in until he found the deepest, most powerful sensor, the one designed to detect the tiniest loose component within his body. The press of Bodhi's fingers against that sensor sent streams of beautiful data through K-2’s core, disrupting his optics, his vocabulator, his servos, everything that wasn’t overwhelming sensory feedback radiating from Bodhi’s hand. 

“Kay - Kay, are you—”

“Do that again,” K-2 managed, his voice barely comprehensible through a fuzz of static. “Please, Bodhi, please.”

Bodhi did it again, and again, then pulled back to another, less powerful sensor, stroking at his wiring, before reaching deeper. The pleasure came in waves, cresting and falling, his processors running hard to keep up with the flood of new data. K-2 began to touch Bodhi again, generating even more delicious input: the smooth curve of his back, the flex of his narrow stomach, his coarse chest hair, the softness of his lips… Bodhi caught his hand and began kissing his fingers, down to his palm, and then he licked the full length of one digit, his tongue hot and wet and that, combined with the touch inside K-2's plating, seemed to ignite every one of his components, his fans spinning faster and faster as he overloaded and cried out.

When he was next fully aware of his surroundings, he found Bodhi watching him in mild concern, still holding his hand. “Kay? Are you - was that alright?”

“I have never experienced anything like that before. Is that what orgasms are like?”

Bodhi laughed giddily and kissed his fingers. The pleasure was less intense this time, a faint little spark. “I hope so,” he said. “I wasn’t sure if you even could. That was amazing, seeing you like that.”

K-2 cupped Bodhi’s face with one hand, and pressed the other to his chest, feeling the quickened pace of his heart. He wanted to make Bodhi feel pleasure, to know what he looked like, sounded like, felt like when overwhelmed. “I would like to do the same for you.”

Uncertainty brushed over Bodhi’s face. “So would I,” he said slowly. “But I’m not… I might…”

K-2 remembered what he had said, about his failed attempt at intimacy with the Pathfinder. “We do not have to.” He ran his thumb over the crest of his cheekbone. 

Resolve settled over Bodhi’s face. “Keep touching me,” he said. “I’ll - tell you, if I need to stop.”

K-2's need for touch was less fervent, now, but still intense, a desire that came from somewhere deep within his programming. He began stroking Bodhi’s hair, sinking his fingers into the softness at his scalp and running down through the length. Bodhi made a small, pleased noise, his eyes half-closed. “Oh,” he said, his voice dropping. “That’s really nice.”

From his hair K-2 moved to his face, touching the now-familiar angles, pressing his fingertips to Bodhi’s lips in the closest approximation to a kiss that he could manage. From his face down his neck, not lingering there, though he could feel that Bodhi’s pulse was thrumming faster beneath the delicate skin of his throat. His nipples, though functionally useless, seemed rather sensitive; when K-2 rubbed at them, Bodhi squirmed and whimpered, biting his lip.

“I like this,” K-2 told him, running his thumb in circles around the edge of one. “I am building entirely new behaviour models for you.”

Bodhi groaned and his head dropped forward to rest against K-2’s. “Private ones, I hope.”

“Of course. There will be many layers of encryption. They’re not for anybody else.” He slid his palm down Bodhi’s chest and trailed his fingers down the path of hair leading from his navel. He wanted more, more touch, more data, to make Bodhi feel even half as good as he had. 

“Kriff,” Bodhi whispered. “Kriff, I want - hold on…” He pulled back and unbuckled his belt. He had to move away to pull boots and trousers off. 

Naked humans had always looked faintly ridiculous to K-2 but, as with so many things, Bodhi seemed to be different. He was all long lines and sharp angles. There was thicker hair on his lower legs, which grew fainter further up his thighs. There was another neat thatch of dark hair between his legs. His penis was not quite hard. He looked a little vulnerable and embarrassed. 

“Come back,” K-2 held out an arm, keeping his vocabulator soft. Bodhi let K-2 pull him back down into lap, and met his optics when K-2 cupped his face. “What is it?”

Bodhi gave an uncertain smile. “It’s fine. Just… been a while.” He leaned forward and kissed K-2’s faceplate, winding his arms around his shoulders. “Kay, touch me. Please.”

K-2 traced the crest of his hip, trailing his fingertips through the curling hair at his crotch. Bodhi swallowed, and his penis twitched slightly. K-2 put his other arm around him to hold him close and steady, sliding his hand down his spine to curve around his gluteus muscles. That made Bodhi gasp.

“Ah, yeah - that’s good, keep - keep doing that.” His hips shifted in K-2’s grip, and again when he squeezed. He kept doing it, squeezing and holding, and let his other hand slide further down to cover Bodhi’s cock with his palm. Bodhi whimpered at that, and bit his lip, his eyes closed. His penis was warm under K-2’s hand, warmer than the rest of him, and he felt it harden a little further at his touch. That was gratifying. 

He traced the shape of Bodhi’s cock with his fingers, then down to his testicles, delicate and soft beneath the hair, and then back up, rubbing his thumb lightly under the crown and then over the silk-soft glans. As he explored Bodhi’s cock it grew larger and harder, and Bodhi was panting and whimpering, trying to move his hips more and more. There was a bead of clear liquid at the head of his cock, and K-2 slid his thumb over it, and then again, pressing the tip of his thumb against the small slit.

“ _Kay_ ,” Bodhi choked. “Kay, please, I—” He grabbed K-2’s hand in his organic one and curled it around his cock. It was so warm against K-2’s palm, his sensors picking up every throb, every twitch. He tightened his fingers slightly and Bodhi moaned.

“You will need to tell me how you like this,” he said, beginning to move his hand up and down. “I will create new subroutines for touching you, exactly the way you like.”

Bodhi swore, rocking hard into K-2’s fist, still clutching at his shoulder. “Tighter,” he gasped. “And - and faster - kriff, I - I’ve thought about this, but this is - _ah_... so much better—”

New desire and affection shot through K-2’s systems, and his vocabulator glitched as he said, “You have thought about this?”

“Sometimes. I tried not to, but - kriff, I wanted you so - _oh_ \- badly…” Bodhi’s pants and groans mixed up his words as he rocked his hips. “Imagined - you touching me, when we were watching that - that stupid show, or - just picking me up when we were alone on the ship… I’d touch myself and imagine it was you. I never, _ever_ thought you could want—"

“I have never wanted anything like this,” K-2 stroked Bodhi faster. “You are an entirely new experience.”

“Oh, Force - _Kay_ —” A few more strokes, and Bodhi’s entire body tensed and shook. He pushed K-2’s hand clumsily away and covered his cock with his own palm as he spent, shuddering and moaning.

K-2 wrapped him in his arms as he went limp and panting against his chest. There seemed to be a warm glow in every one of his components, a satisfaction and happiness better than running even the most complex analysis. It seemed strange that only a day ago he had been holding Bodhi’s trembling form in his arms for an entirely different reason. This was by far the better experience. 

“Kay?” Bodhi’s voice was soft and blurred. K-2 stroked his hair.

“Yes?”

“Would you… want to do this again?”

What a ludicrous question. “Was my enthusiasm not obvious?”

Bodhi laughed, and it vibrated through K-2’s plating. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Please do. I will need as much data as possible for my new subroutines.”

“Mm. That’s very important.”

“Quite." They remained in silence for nine-point-three seconds, K-2 stroking Bodhi's hair in steady rhythm. "You told me, months ago, what it felt like to love somebody. I told you that it was not something droids are programmed to experience.” Bodhi went still at the word ‘love’, and he pushed himself up so he could look K-2 in the face. 

“And?” he said, biting his lower lip again. K-2 tugged his lip free and brushed his fingers over it instead.

“I think you’ve reprogrammed me, somehow.”

A slow smile bloomed over Bodhi’s face. He kissed K-2’s fingers, then his faceplate, then his fingers again. “Good,” he said fervently. “Me too, Kay.”

“And now you should wash. Then you should sleep. You humans really do need constant maintenance.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Still smiling, Bodhi pushed himself away. “Though before I sleep, how about the new episode of _Searching the Stars_?”

K-2 looked at Bodhi, his broad grin and messy hair and scars, the lines of worry and fear gone from his face, and knew that he would do anything in the Galaxy to keep him safe. 

“If I must,” he said.


End file.
